


Catching Draco

by JosephineStone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hd_writers, Games, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is trying to catch Draco; expanding upon my drabble "Snitch".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hd_writers back to Hogwarts challenge a couple years ago.

A few years after the war and several months into therapy, Harry had finally realised why he could never stop thinking about Draco Malfoy. It was so obvious that even Ron was ready to hex Harry by the time he finally mumbled,

‘I fancy him.’ 

Harry's face was smashed against the countertop of the bar. It took a few fire-whiskeys before he could get to what his Healer had told him. Which, incidentally, was the only reason Harry began to believe it himself. Had it _not_ been true, it would have been easy to say. To complain about. That was what he was supposed to be doing: complaining about what a horrible Healer he had. 

‘How could he suggest—.' 

Well, the truth, it seemed.

‘Perhaps,’ Ron said, ‘he was as bored out of his mind hearing about the bloke as we are?’

Harry couldn’t even lift his head off the bar to glare at Ron. It was utterly hopeless. Malfoy hated Harry as much as Harry had always believed Harry hated him. 

Which was a lot.

A firm hand gripped Harry’s shoulder, and then **Blaise’s** voice interrupted Harry’s thoughts with the encouraging words, 

‘Come on, mate. It isn’t utterly hopeless.’ 

This coming from a fellow Slytherin and someone Harry knew to be close with Malfoy should have given him some hope, but it didn’t. He rolled his head to the side so he could glare at Blaise.

‘Hear me out! One, Malfoy is gay! Which means he is much closer to saying yes to you than any other member of the **Falmouth Falcons**! Two, I’m friends with him and that gives you plenty of opportunities to run into each other!’

Blaise made each statement with sweeping gestures which Ginny had to dodge from her place beside him. She shook her head and laughed. Blaise might have been drinking a bit as well. It was the most casual, as well as the loudest, Harry’d ever heard him.

‘We’ve never run into each other with you.’ 

Blaise and Ginny had been together for six months, and Blaise had only recently begun to join them when they went out on the weekends. He'd never brought any of his friends along with him.

‘That doesn’t mean you can’t _start_!’

Harry, finally, sat up and listened to him.

#

Why had Blaise offered to bring Draco with him, again?

Draco turned his glare from the mirror toward Blaise. ‘How did you talk me into this, again?’ 

‘It’s just a dinner party.’

‘With Weasleys.’

Blaise brushed down Draco’s robes, making sure there was no lint hiding somewhere that Draco wouldn’t notice it and ironing out any wrinkles he found. Once he was sure Draco looked perfect, he firmly grabbed his shoulders, stared him directly in the eyes, and said, 

‘I’m _dating_ a Weasley.’

For a brief moment, Draco looked as though he was going to apologise. He nodded instead and then Blaise released him and let Draco check his robes over.

‘This is a serious relationship and I don’t want to have to choose between my friends and my family.’

Draco stopped and their eyes met through the mirror. ‘Are you thinking of marrying her?’

‘I hadn’t thought about it yet.' Blaise shook his head at Draco and then smirked. 'When I said family, I'd been referring to _you_.’

‘Me?’

‘Among others: Pansy, **my mother** , of course.’ Blaise never considered his mother’s husbands part of his family, and whoever his father was caused his mother’s family to never speak to her again. He nudged Draco with his elbow then held out his own. 

‘We should go,' Blaise said. 'We don’t want to be late.’

#

They appeared outside The Burrow a moment later. It looked peaceful, serene as they walked up the path. Blaise knew that would change the moment they entered the house. Before they had a chance to knock the door was thrown open. Potter stood there and stared at them.

‘Hi,’ Potter said much too loudly.

Why? Oh, why had he offered to do this? Ginny peeked from around Harry, and then she grabbed Harry's arm pulling him out of the way. 

‘Well, come on.’ Ginny gestured them in and kept herself between Harry and Draco until they made it to the living room. Blaise shared a look with Ginny and she nodded him to the kitchen.

‘I’ll be just a moment,’ Blaise said and followed her. He didn’t have to look to know that Draco was glaring at his back. Once in the kitchen, he started, ‘It’s quiet.’

‘Yes, well, my parents aren’t here nor any of my brothers—.'

‘What?’

‘Shhh, Ron didn’t trust himself not to say something stupid. My parents didn’t want to interfere, Bill and Charlie don’t always come and _didn’t want to_ without mum and dad here. George—it's probably best that he’s not here.’

‘Draco isn’t stupid.’ Blaise began to pace the kitchen. ‘He’ll know we set him up.’

‘I know, so I called **Neville**.’

Blaise stopped. ‘And?’

‘He should be here soon, but I don’t know who he’ll bring with him. I had hoped he get here earlier, but he is always late.’

Ginny twisted her fingers as she chewed the inside of her cheek. As Blaise calmed himself down with the knowledge that other people would be there soon, he realised that his excuse for the dinner would be a failure either way. Draco would say nothing, but he’d figure it out—that the Weasleys weren’t ready to welcome Blaise quite yet. Blaise hadn’t expected them too, not yet.

But the truth hit him harder than he expected. 

This was for Harry and everyone except Draco knew it. They wouldn’t even show up for _Harry_ , would Ginny have even entertained the idea if the dinner had been for Blaise? Pansy and Draco, not just his mother, we’re part of his family. Of the three of them, his mother was the only one convicted as a Death Eater and sent to Azkaban. Her sentence was light in comparison—only seven years vs. the more common twenty-five to life—but she did far more damage than Draco had during the war, even if she didn’t kill anyone.

‘What’s the matter?’ Ginny had been watching him. 

Blaise was saved from answering by a knock on the door.

‘Nothing,’ he lied as they made their way to answer it. 

Neville arrived with Luna and a Gryffindor girl from Ginny’s year that Blaise couldn’t remember the name of. They all joined Harry and Draco in the living room, where they were sitting on a couch. Draco pushing himself further into the corner to get away from any accidental touching by Harry, and Harry turned toward him fidgeting and blushing like—well, what he was—smitten with Draco.

Neville came and sat right between the pair and it was one of the many times that night Blaise could have kissed him.

#

‘He asked me to dinner,’ Draco said. ‘Can you believe that? I can’t go to dinner with him.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’s Harry Potter.’

Blaise waited for a better answer. 

‘What would people say?’

‘Why does it matter what’d they say? You did nothing but talk about him for years. Everyone knows you fancy him—’ Blaise received a glare for that comment but didn’t care. It had been a running joke for years, and teasing Draco about it had been the only way to shut him up about Potter’s latest activities. 

‘Give me a good reason,' Blaise said.

‘I don’t care what people say if they’re wrong, but I can’t handle it if they are right.’

He would never understand Draco. He had the Dark Mark but he never cared one way or another about it until someone who looked down on such things walked in the room. That he preferred the company of men and he thought about Potter more than most would consider strictly healthy likewise wasn't an issue unless someone else thought it was. He was a good Quidditch play, good enough to be the Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons, and as long as no one else around him cared that he never beat Potter in all the years they played Quidditch against each, then neither did he. 

They’d had these conversations before and Blaise couldn’t convince Draco that the people who made those judgements were wrong. None of them meant he was weaker or less worthy of life than Potter. They were just differences. Who cares if society valued—and would always value—bravery over ambition? It was still not a greater or better trait to have in all circumstances. The brave may thrive in war but ambition always won in peacetime. 

Putting their world back together, helping everyone create an equal plane for their society, rebuilding and making it better than it was before, were all ambitions which had nothing to do with bravery.

Blaise took a deep breath. ‘Okay, then what do you need to do to prove them wrong? What exactly do you need to prove wrong to be able just to go on a date with him?’

‘I need to beat him.’

#

‘Friendly competition?’ Blaise simply dropped Potter’s name in the same sentence as the word ‘game’, and Draco never could resist attempting to beat Potter at something no matter how many times he lost to him.

‘I get enough of that at my job,’ Draco said, before reminding everyone for the hundredth time that, ‘my team’s won every championship since I joined them.’

To be fair, the Falmouth Falcons had won most of their championships prior to Draco joining their team. He was an excellent Seeker but,

‘You’ve still never beat me,’ Potter said. 

Blaise groaned as Draco turned pink around the ears. Could Potter do nothing but put his foot in his mouth? Did he want to date Draco or not? Insulting him was _not_ the way to go about it. 

‘Come on, Malfoy. Red versus green?’

Blaise had only told Potter that playing games with each other would be a more accepted form of contact for Draco. Games Draco understood, he had told him, where relationships made him uncomfortable. In truth, games made Draco uncomfortable as well, but only because he tied his self-worth into the winning and losing of them.

He debated about telling Potter the truth about Draco.

The more he lost to Potter the worse it would be, but Blaise knew that if Draco won it had to be real. So he didn’t let Potter know what needed to happen. Besides, Potter was so used to getting everything he wanted when he wanted it; he could use being rejected for a while. 

Draco was bound to win at something. If not on the Quidditch Pitch then perhaps at Wizard’s chess. He’d heard Potter had never won a game against Weasley; if Draco didn’t get distracted by Potter’s mere presence, it could be the thing he needed. Something he would always beat Potter at as well.

‘You can even be the team captain of the green team if you want?’ Potter bounced on his heels as he waited for an answer. Blaise had never seen him so excited. ‘It’ll be fun.’

It’d be a nightmare; just like being back at Hogwarts. Only worse, because now Draco was a professional. He’d be the person everyone would see as having an advantage. Potter only played at the weekends.

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ Draco said with a smirk that made Blaise nervous. ‘Did you bring your racing broom, Potter?’

Everyone knew that Potter was so loyal he only owned one broom. It had taken Draco a better part of an hour to pick out which broom he’d bring with him, and now he knew why he’d made the choice he had. It wasn’t a good Seeker’s broom because it didn’t turn around worth a damn, but it was the fastest broom if you wanted to go in a straight line or make a quick dodge in one direction or the other.

Of course, Potter agreed.

Everyone else sat on the bench as Bill flew at the start line and Fleur waited at the finish line.

Game. Set. Match. Loss.

‘Malfoy!’ Potter called as he ran after him off the pitch. ‘Wait!’

Blaise gave Ginny a quick kiss. ‘Draco’ll hex him if he catches up with him.’ He was off the bench and walking quickly after the pair a moment later. He caught up to them in time to pull Draco back before he sent the first stinging hex. Potter would have survived it—laughed it off, even—but Draco would have regretted it and been even more humiliated.

The next weekend was rained out and Blaise had never been so thankful for rain in his life. Game day would involve actual games for once. Everyone lounged around Grimmauld Place as they switched off card games which Potter wasn’t good nor horrible at.

Quickly, Blaise realised the problem with card games. They were group games and somehow even when Draco did get more points than Harry it didn’t change anything. It didn’t have the same spirit of competition as one-on-one games or the physical sports did.

And the other problem with card games, the bigger problem, was that even when Draco beat Potter, he was still losing to someone else.

Wizard’s chess would not be a good idea if Weasley was as good as everyone said he was. Losing to Potter wasn’t a new thing for Draco, but losing to Weasley—Blaise didn’t even want to witness the aftermath.

‘Ron,’ Potter said the words that would have been impossible for Draco to ignore, ‘you know I hate chess!’

‘I’ll play,’ Draco said as though it meant nothing to him. Blaise hated that tone. It meant that Draco cared far too much about he was about to do and that failing was not an option. Would beating Weasley be a big enough thing?

It was Weasley’s thing. Weasley was Potter’s best mate. Sod it, Blaise couldn’t comprehend every thought that went through Draco’s mind. He knew Draco cared about the game, but that didn’t mean it would change anything in the end.

Blaise watched. 

Everyone watched. 

It was probably the only game a chess many of them had watched from beginning to end. Draco did well but so did Weasley. 

Blaise held his breath and his stomach dropped as Weasley said, ‘Knight takes queen.’

There were groans and cheering all around them.

‘Alright, who needs more drinks?’ Ginny asked and Blaise went with her to the kitchen with half a dozen glasses to refilled. 

‘You alright?’ she asked once they were alone.

He nodded.

‘You looked uncomfortable when Draco lost.’

‘He’s never been a very good loser.’ 

‘He didn’t say anything; I’d say he deals with it a lot better now than he used to.’

Yes, he had matured quite a bit since being fifteen, but Blaise was more worried about how it affected Draco and less about what made other people feel more comfortable. They came back to Seamus collecting money from the side bets.

‘Pay up, Harry.’

‘You bet on me?’ Draco asked, staring at Potter in disbelief. Blaise wanted to hex him. Potter asked him to dinner. He stared at him constantly most of the time with a goofy looking grin off his face.

Of course, he bet on him.

‘Yeah,’ Potter said as he dropped a few gallons into Seamus’ hand, ‘and I lost.’

Blaise closed his eyes. It didn’t matter to Potter. It was obvious by his tone of voice that he didn’t care, and he’d spend thousands of gallons supporting Draco’s failed efforts if Draco would let him. But it was four steps backwards. If there was anything worse than the idea that Potter was better than him in every way, it was the reminder that Draco dragged Potter down. 

A winner that became a loser by associating with him.

Draco downed a fire-whiskey.

Blaise followed suit which annoyed Ginny. She didn’t like how easily Draco’s mood affected him. She didn’t realise that she was the same about her close friends as well. If someone upset her friends, she was just as angry.

Everyone heard Draco’s ‘Fuck off, Potter!’ when Harry followed Draco to the door later and attempted to help him get home without Splinching himself.

Blaise was there and quick to heal him when Draco **did** Splinch himself. He’d been lucky, very lucky. Had the cut been any deeper he’d have been on the bench for a while.

#

‘I’m tired of being in a sea of Gryffindors,’ Draco said the next weekend. 

‘We’re not even playing this weekend,' Blaise said. 'It’s a party, not a competition. Honest.’

Draco thought about it a moment. ‘Get Pansy to come and I’ll consider it.’

Pansy, as always, was harder to convince even though he was able to tell her the truth. 

‘Honestly, Blaise when did you become such a Hufflepuff?’

‘It’s a party, Pansy. You love celebrations.’

‘I love alcohol and making fun of people under the influence of alcohol; there’s a slight difference.’

Blaise smirked. ‘You’ll have plenty of opportunity with this lot.’

‘Hmm, I fear it would be too easy….’

What would make it worth it for Pansy? ‘If we get them together, Draco will quit complaining about Potter.’

‘I doubt that; it would just be a different type of complaining.’

‘Viktor Krum will be there,’ Blaise said, his voice full of doubt.

Pansy snorted. ‘I’ve been over that crush since Sixth Year.’

‘It would mean a lot to me if you’d join us.’

‘Well, that’s all you had to say...I’ll be there.’ She smiled slightly. ‘What’s this party for, anyway?’

‘The Weasley’s are big Cannons fans.’

Pansy’s face scrunched up in confusion. ‘They’re not going to the championship?’

‘I know, they’re celebrating that the Cannons aren’t dead last this year.’


	2. Chapter 2

With three Slytherins at the Burrow, the tension was thick as fog. Harry saw very little of Mr and Mrs Weasley, and George left not long after Draco and his friends arrived. Harry snuck up behind Ginny in the kitchen and wrapped an arm around her. She leaned against him and sighed.

‘They’ll—’

Ginny jumped and shoved Harry away. ‘Harry?’

‘Merlin.’ Harry held his hands up in front of him. ‘It’s me, Ginny.’

‘Don’t do that!’ Ginny took a deep breath. ‘I thought you were Blaise—but your voices are nothing alike.’

‘Sorry, I was just trying to be supportive….’

‘Well, I’m fine.’ She banged around the kitchen trying to find something or perhaps simply to be allowed to hit things without consequence for a while. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘No, it’s not, and you know it. As I was going to say, they’ll come around. Blaise never did anything to your family. They’ll come around.’

‘D’you—do you have a problem with Pansy being here?’

‘No, why would I?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘Just something that George said.’

Harry had enough of people telling him what he should and shouldn’t be upset or angry about. He never blamed Pansy for what she said. She’d been the only person who was right when looking at it from an outside perspective. No one should have been fighting and dying, at all, the day. Harry was always going to be the one that had to face Voldemort. The war itself was pointless.

He regretted and then selfishly didn’t regret many things that happened that day.

No one had to fight until midnight.

Had he trusted someone else to get the last Horcrux would they have let Draco die or would he have never followed them in there to begin with? Nothing about the duel would have changed no matter what time Harry had gone to face him. That was why Harry had told Neville to kill the snake if Harry died before he could.

But after that, then they had to fight. There was no telling who would have died had he met with Voldemort earlier or who would have survived, and only he knew that he learned something important about what needed to happen in that time before mid-night.

There was no reason for Pansy to have known that there was still information that he needed to learn, and he would be able to learn shortly before he battled Voldemort. Like he was supposed to, like everyone in the whole castle knew he had to do. There was no reason for him to have hard feelings for the one person who saw that keeping one person alive was not worth the lives of hundreds of children.

Harry laughed. ‘In comparison with Draco, Pansy did nothing to me.’

‘Yeah,’ Ginny said with a smile. ‘And you’re hopelessly in love with him. Speaking of...’ Ginny grabbed a shopping bag and began rummaging through it. ‘I got something for you today for your Chocolate Frog Card Collection.’ 

‘You found one!’ 

‘Yeap.’ Ginny handed him the Draco Malfoy card. ‘Everyone’s been looking for it; I’m surprised it took so long.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?’

Ginny laughed. ‘I’m sure it means a lot more to you than me, and I quit collecting them years ago.’

‘Thank you.’

She looked away. ‘Come on, if we leave Ron out there alone with Malfoy too long, there might be a death date on the next printing of those.’

As Harry followed her out into the living room, they were met with Ron bellowing, ‘Grab your broomsticks boys!’ as he headed for the back door. ‘It’s Quidditch time!’

‘Hey!’ both Ginny and Angelia shouted. 

‘Sorry,’ Ron said sheepishly.

Malfoy smirked as he followed the girls outside. ‘Your sister is a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and you still can’t remember that girls play, too?’

‘It’s an expression, Malfoy; it doesn’t mean anything. I know girls play Quidditch; I’ve never been on a team without one on it.’

Harry grabbed his broom. It’d been a couple of months since they’d played Quidditch, and they hadn’t planned on it that weekend either. Half the time Draco spent picking his team, he glared at everyone around him—they were the Seekers, of course—and the rest of the time he had a small smile on his face. Ginny and Blaise were the Chasers for Draco’s team, and as they rose in the air, Harry felt a pang, knowing that Draco and he would always be in competition and never beside each other like them.

He was happy for Ginny and cheered them on as they passed the Quaffle back and forth down the pitch. They worked well together. And no one else would cheer them on. Harry looked at Draco. Seekers didn’t get that. If he could talk Draco into playing something Muggle, they could be a pair in tennis or such. They could see how well they worked together as a team instead of always being against each other. 

The match wore on as Harry tried to keep his eyes on the sky, on Draco, and watch the game. Then he heard Draco laugh—

Draco was watching the Beaters as they fumbled around. None of their friends were Beaters, anymore. Draco and Blaise never spoke about Crabbe much like the Weasleys only mentioned George to say that he wasn’t coming or had just left. Harry shook away the memories. There was a glint near Draco: the Golden Snitch.

Harry sped toward Draco, who quickly caught on. They were neck and neck chasing the Snitch around for what seemed like hours. Every time Harry was about to catch it he pulled back not wanting the game to end so soon. Draco would leave—most likely angry—as soon as he caught it, and Harry didn't want their day to end that way. 

They'd mostly got along up until that point. So when Draco's fingers brushed the Snitch, Harry let him have it. He could have caught it much earlier, he could have caught it right under Draco's hand then, but it wasn't worth it to him.

Catching Draco was.

Harry had never seen Draco’s face light up quite like it did as he landed that day. 

They didn't fight as they landed. Harry congratulated him. Draco was the professional. His team had won the last three Quidditch World Cups. It wasn’t unbelievable that Draco could beat him; but as they walked back inside sweating and smile, Ron gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged his shoulders.

A movement that said he knew, he understood, he’d have done the same thing for Hermione. It said that as much as Ron didn’t like it didn’t like Draco in general, he wouldn’t say anything about it. A game wasn’t as important as a relationship. 

When Harry sat next to Draco on the couch, he didn’t shift away like he usually did. He didn’t cut off Harry mid-sentence. 

They actually talked.

‘It’s been awhile since we’ve played each other,’ Harry said. ‘It was fun. I’d forgotten how much I missed it.’

‘I was surprised you took it so well.’ His expression was impossible to read. Did he know that Harry had let him have it? ‘I’d never beaten you before.’

Harry shrugged and looked away afraid Draco could read the truth in his eyes. ‘You can’t win them all, and you’re a really good Seeker.’

‘Had you ever lost at all?' Draco asked. 'I can’t remember? To Ravenclaw—I can’t remember their Seeker….’

‘No, but Cedric—Diggory—beat me once when I passed out because of the Dementors.’

‘Third year,’ Draco said, ‘I remember—he was a good Seeker, too.’ 

‘Cho is professional now as well.’

Draco snapped his fingers. ‘That was the Ravenclaw Seeker. I don’t know how I forgot her name? She’s with the Appleby Arrows now, right?’

‘Right.’ 

They watched each other until the silence became awkward. Harry said all he could think of about Quidditch for the moment and they had no other safe topics. "I got a Chocolate Frog card with your picture on it today,” seemed stalkerish, and he’d already asked—and been refused—Draco out to dinner, once. They had a conversation. That was enough for the day, but then Draco broke the silence.

‘So.’ Draco hesitated. ‘Is that dinner offer still open?’

Harry’s jaw went slack for a moment before he nodded and said, ‘Yes, yes, of course—I would have asked, again, but I thought you didn’t want to.’

‘I didn’t,’ Draco said, ‘but I changed my mind. I want to now.’

‘Great, that’s great. Yes, where...?’

‘You pick.’

‘Alright then, when?’ Harry knew he was grinning like a loon, but he thought he had as much of a chance at getting Draco on a date as Seamus did get him to play football.

‘When does this end?’

#

They weren’t officially dating no matter what his friends and _The Daily Prophet_ said. They’d had dates, but Harry hadn’t got up the nerve to kiss Draco, yet. Nor the nerve to ask him if they were committed. The kiss should probably come first.

Harry had gone to all Draco’s Quidditch games since his revelation that he was attracted to him, but he’d never let Draco know that before. After most the crowds had left he walked down to the locker room exits, only to find the crowd had moved there.

He felt foolish as the players came out and spoke to reporters and fans. He felt like a fan. He blushed every time a player spotted him. Especially as one walked toward him. One that wasn’t Draco. He wished he was at Hogwarts so he could run to his Common Room and hide.

‘You here to see Malfoy?’

Harry nodded afraid to speak.

‘Come on.’ The man gestured toward the locker room doors. 

Once Harry got close enough to him, he grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him through the crowd until they made it into the team’s locker room. It was quiet on the other side of the door except for the sound of showers in the distance and low conversation.

‘Reporters aren’t allowed in,’ the player said. ‘Don’t let them intimidate you, just push through them. Malfoy’s locker is down there.’

‘Thanks,’ Harry said. ‘I’m—’

‘I know who you are.’ The player laughed. ‘I’m Adam.’ He shook Harry’s hand and then said, ‘I’m sure I’ll see you around.’ He made to leave but hesitated. ‘Don’t look so nervous; you’re all he ever talks about.’ 

With a bit more confidence, Harry turned and walked in the direction Adam pointed, taking deep breaths as he went. He’d been nervous enough about waiting outside the door for him. What would Draco say when he found him at his locker? He hoped Adam was right, and Draco would be happy to see him.

Draco turned the corner wearing nothing but a towel and Harry froze. This was a very, very bad idea. When Draco saw him, he stopped. A very, very bad idea. Harry looked away, and when he looked back again, Draco had started toward him. No, he had gone to his locker which was a few lockers away from where Harry stood.

Harry stepped toward him cautiously.

‘Quidditch this weekend?’ Harry tried.

‘I’m dead tired of Quidditch.’

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. ‘We could play Aingingein.’

‘I’m surprised you even know what that is.’ Draco snorted. ‘Not interested.’

‘I know all sorts of things especially about sports.’

Draco smiled. ‘Well, I know about Swivenhodge, but you couldn’t pay me to play it. I’d rather play gobstones or that Muggle sport Finnigan is always on about.’

‘Football?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

‘Really? He’ll be so excited.’

Draco smirked. ‘Anything to please, so...why are you really here?’

‘I was waiting outside, and someone saw me—.'

‘I mean, why did you want to see me? You could have owled about Quidditch.’ 

Draco started on his hair first. Harry didn’t see the point. Wouldn’t dressing only mess it up. Except dressing meant he had to lose the towel and then Harry blushed again. Of course, he was waiting until Harry left. 

‘I was here. I just wanted to say hi, and—.' 

Draco was pulling clothes out of his locker when Harry noticed a bruise that covered three ribs.

‘Is that from the fouls?’

Draco looked down and the back up to Harry. ‘That’s why they got the fouls, Potter. Don’t look so shocked. You used to bruise me all the time.’ Then he smirked. ‘Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you tonight—or now—as it would be near time. This—’ Draco gestured between them. ‘—isn’t that new.

As with most things that Draco said, Harry took it as a challenge. His nervousness disappeared as he quit thinking about the consequences and did what he did best: took action.

‘I don’t want to go out.’ Harry took a step closer. ‘I want you to come to the house—have dinner with me at home.’

‘Oh.’

‘Unless, you want me to go to yours?’ Harry leaned farther in. ‘Maybe show me your trophy room?’ 

Draco didn’t pull back. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready for _that_ but dinner at yours would be...acceptable.’

Harry smiled and brushed his lips against Draco’s. Draco leaned toward Harry, following his lips as the moved away as Harry pulled back. 

‘Get dressed,’ Harry said, ‘and meet me outside.’

With surprised eyes, Draco nodded.

‘I will.’ 

Harry backed up and then walked away. He had to calm himself down before Draco met him outside the locker room or they might not get to eat dinner that night after all.

#

‘Exploding Snap,’ Ron offered. ‘I think it is about the only thing we haven’t played yet.

It was interesting seeing Ron talking to Draco as if he was any other one of their mates. Harry smiled at him, and Ron shrugged in response. Sometimes Draco would say something and Ron interpreted it as an insult, but they had yet to come to blows over anyone’s comments.

Draco had relaxed as well. Partly, Harry believed, because Pansy had become a regular at their weekend gatherings as well. The times in the evenings when Draco agreed to stay out later with them there tended to be as many Slytherins as there were Gryffindors around.

And possibly, since they’d made it passed their first kiss, he was becoming more comfortable around Harry as well. Harry sat next to Draco on the couch, Ron on the other side of the table in front of them dealt the cards. Harry let his arm fall behind Draco and played with the hem of his jumper.

He didn’t stiffen, push Harry away or pull away himself. 

‘We have yet to play any Muggle sports,’ Draco said and the next moment there was a cheer from Seamus. 

‘Yes! We must play some football. I’ll even ref, so no one has a fair advantage!’

‘You just want to watch us make fools of ourselves,’ Draco said.

Seamus wasn’t too shy to acknowledge that with a nod. ‘Football anyone?’

‘I’ll play,’ Harry said and nudged Draco.

Draco turned, and his eyes met Harry’s. He glanced at his lips and back up again, but neither of them leaned in. They hadn’t kissed in front of anyone yet. Ron groaned anyway. He could handle the talking, but the staring was too much. He’d lose it if they did kiss right then.

Harry pulled at Draco’s sleeve; he really couldn’t stop himself from touching him. 

‘We could be on the same team,' Harry said.

Draco smirked at Harry. ‘What if I like competing against you?’ 

‘Then we could block each other.’ At Draco’s confused look, Harry said, ‘Football is a bit like Quidditch except there are only the two goals guarded by the two Keepers and everyone else is a Chaser.’

‘Have you ever played Chaser before?’

‘No,' Harry said, 'but neither have you and you’ve never had to play without a broom...oh, or without your hands. It’s called football because only the Keepers can touch the ball with their hands. Everyone else has to use their feet.’

Ron laughed. ‘Malfoy running; this I’d love to watch.’

‘Be a Keeper then,’ Harry said. ‘You can’t use a broom either.’

Ron’s face fell. ‘We still have this game to end.’ He gestured at the cards in his hand.

‘Oh, forget the cards,’ Seamus said, ‘I haven’t seen a live football game in a minute.’

‘Yeah, Ron, come on.’ Hermione pulled him to his feet. ‘I’ll even play this one with you.’

‘Really?’ both Ron and Ginny said at the same time.

‘I hate heights, not sports!’

They were red vs. green, again, because Harry picked the colours. He, Blaise, Ginny, Draco, Pansy, and Hermione were on the green team, and Ron, Neville, Dean, Bill and Fleur were on the red team. Seamus went over the rules and watched for fouls—he was the only one who knew the game well enough to call them.

Neville was better than anyone had anticipated but what won the game was Hermione. No one on the red team could get the ball passed her.

Ron’s jaw hung to the floor for the rest of the afternoon.

#

‘Are you stalking me or just trying to see me naked?’ Draco asked.

Harry grinned. ‘A little bit of both.’

It felt good to laugh. To know that Draco was joking and okay with Harry there in the locker room after practice that time, waiting for Draco. The bruises where the Bludger had hit him a couple of weeks before was gone. 

If Harry had the nerve, he’d have looked when Draco changed right next to him, but he didn’t want to push it, so he sat staring at the lockers across from him as he waited.

‘So are you taking me out?’

‘If you want or we could have dinner at my place, again.’

‘Hmm,’ Draco said, ‘however to decide?’ He was dressed then and pulled out his wand balancing it on the back of his hand. ‘How about we duel? Nothing too dangerous, but if you win we go to yours, and if I win we’ll go out someplace ridiculously expensive.’ 

‘A Wizard’s duel then?’ Harry nodded at Draco’s smile.

But something about it made Harry nervous. They hadn’t really competed against each other since Draco caught the Snitch, and Harry didn’t want to ruin the evening before they even decided on dinner. So he sent his trademark spell a little after he’d heard Draco send his.

The sting from Draco’s hex only lasted a minute, but the smile stayed on Draco’s face all evening. It was worth it. Even when they ran into the Seeker for Puddlemore United, and he talked Draco’s ear off for half an hour. Even when the waiter flirted with Harry and snuck him her owl address. Even when they ran into a family whose sons wanted both their autographs while their parents glared at them for holding hands. 

It was worth it. 

Because Draco kept his eyes on Harry, because he continued to hold Harry’s hand anyway, and because Draco kissed Harry goodbye without stopping to weigh the options for five minutes first.

As though he simply wanted to and that was all that mattered.


End file.
